


Temporary Hysteria

by sad_goomy



Series: Lonashipping Week 2018 [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: ......so far, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Banter, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae King Gladion, Humor, LONASHIPPING WEEK, Marriage Proposal, One-Sided Attraction, Witch Moon, and a direct paraphrase of a Labyrinth quote as well because apparently Gladion is Jareth in this?, lonashipping, mahinashipping, ngl there's some real Pride and Prejudice influence here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_goomy/pseuds/sad_goomy
Summary: Gladion is a proud and noble fae king, who only tolerates Moon's presence because she may be able to cure the poison his mother suffers from.Until that tolerance grows into something fonder and he gets a very peculiar idea.





	Temporary Hysteria

 

There's an old legend amongst the fae that tells of a king who fell in love with a mortal, becoming humble in her wake and giving up his crown to be by her side.

Gladion could never stand that story.

His mother would recite it every night before he and his sister fell asleep. Lillie would grin the entire time before slipping off into a dream, happily sighing to herself.

Gladion would scowl and argue why any fae, much less  _royalty_ , would do something so stupid. To marry for something as fleeting as love is one thing, but to do so with a mortal is another entirely. He didn't understand how anyone could put up with them, could find anything more than fragility and naivete in any mortal.

And his mother would laugh, closing the book and telling him simply, "It's only a story. When the time comes for you to marry, I'm sure you will make the right decision."

 

* * *

 

He hasn't thought about that story in years – he hasn't had the time to, not when his father went missing and his mother fell ill, forcing him to take the throne much earlier than he'd ever dreamed. What was left of his optimism was buried next to his childhood as he began learning the true meaning of duty and the headache that came with the fae court.

It was Lillie who remained hopeful, who looked after their mother and sought out every cure she could find in the library.

It was Lillie who found the witch, organizing a handful of guards to follow rumors of a powerful witch in the woods with an owl familiar.

After a month of searching, she came willingly to the palace, nearly refusing the job until she heard the word “poison” and jumped at the opportunity. She worked hard and diligently, spending long nights in the library and every day rummaging around the garden and apothecary. She's careful with the fae, like any good witch is – she never accepts their gifts and keeps their pride in mind as she speaks to all members of the court.

That doesn't stop Gladion from disliking Moon immensely.

They cross paths far too often for his liking, and she has this horrible talent for twisting his words against him. She's odd, from her interest in poisons to her seemingly constant disheveled appearance. On top of that, her owl comes and goes from the palace as it pleases, leaving feathers everywhere in its wake, and Gladion is beginning to suspect that he's allergic to the damn thing.

And yet after the first few weeks, something shifts.

When she laughs, he straightens. Her gray eyes hold an intelligence that he would never admit to anyone, but that begin to enchant him as the days pass. The nights when he stumbles upon her in the library, he marvels at how such a fragile mortal can keep pushing herself with a curiosity that hungers to know everything that is never truly satisfied.

He finds himself remembering the childhood tale of the fae king and the mortal, and an odd thought occurs to him. The more he reckons with it, the more it makes sense, and so a month after Moon began living in the palace, Gladion goes and finds her in the garden, where she spends most of her afternoons.

She sits in her favorite spot just outside the greenhouse, taking notes in her leather-bound journal, an abandoned cup of tea on the table. He watches her instinctually brush away the glowing, carnivorous flowers trying to climb their way up her legs; her fondness for the deadlier plants in their collection still boggles him, but he pushes the thought away along with the uncharacteristic blossom of nerves in his chest.

Her owl notices his presence first, looking up from its perch on the empty chair across the table. He hoots at the fae, alerting Moon to pause her writing and look up. She raises a brow, closing her notebook as she mumbles, "To what do I owe this visit, Your Highness?"

He clears his throat and recalls the speech he prepared last night. Sensing the shift in the air, her familiar takes flight, deciding to avoid what is sure to be an ensuing debacle. Moon's brows furrow, but before she can comment on his odd behavior, Gladion states stiffly, "It has come to my attention that you are unmarried."

"...You've noticed it before. You have enlightened me as to several reasons why no one would want to wed me." Moon looks around the garden, as if looking for some sort of explanation. Realizing she won't receive any, she looks back to the fae king with something between exasperation and confusion. "What exactly is this about, Your Highness?"

"As you know, our kind age much more slowly than you. However, I have reached the years in which I must consider marriage, now more so since I have ascended to the throne." He rolls his shoulders, breaking his gaze from her to instead survey the garden, a reminder of the vast amount of wealth and responsibility that he has learned to manage. She follows his gaze, biting her tongue even though it's clear she has several opinions to voice. He continues, "Though our courtship may have been brief, I have concluded that your intelligence and steadfastness are excellent qualities. Perhaps, with time, I may learn something from you, and having you in the palace is an invaluable resource. Lillie enjoys your presence, and our mother is on her way to recovery due to your diligence."

When he finally locks eyes with her once more, Moon's stomach drops to the ground, and she suspects the enchanted plants at her feet will begin feasting on it any moment. Then he takes a deep breath and says the very words she so desperately hopes he will not.

"And so I offer you my hand in marriage."

The silence that follows is heavy, and yet Gladion seems pleased with his soliloquy, waiting expectantly for her answer.

Moon blinks. "You think - " She shakes her head, cutting herself off and trying desperately to wrap her mind around this turn of events. Finally, she settles on asking incredulously, "You consider everything that's happened between us...to have been a courtship?"

He hesitates, thrown off when her immediate response isn't an enthusiastic agreement. "Somewhat."

She lets out a one-note laugh, not entirely convinced that this isn't all some fever dream brought on by working with too many poisonous fumes. "You threatened to  _kill me_  when I first arrived."

"I regret that."

He doesn't and they both know it.

Seeing that he's clearly losing the upper hand, he stumbles to collect himself and salvage the moment. The sun is suddenly much brighter than before, and he can practically feel his pale skin growing flush with a burn. "Despite misgivings I may have had in the past, I now see that matrimony would be mutually beneficial."

"Misgivings?" she mutters, before her eyes widen in realization. Moon tries to not fix him with a glare, but her frown gives away her displeasure. "You mean the fact that I'm not fae and therefore inferior to you?"

"What are you getting at?" Gladion snaps, the rush of embarrassment at this conversation going so awry now morphing into frustration. There's no logical reason why she would refuse him, and yet here she is, defying him yet again even as he offers her the world.

"You'll have to pardon me, Your Highness, it's just that my  _lowly_  witch brain can't comprehend at what point your thinly veiled insults were meant to be taken romantically."

It's his turn to blink owlishly, taken aback at the bitter tone. He reacts without thinking, as he's prone to do with her, and matches her scorn with his own as he scoffs, "Why does it upset you that I recognize I'm of a higher station than you?"

"I don't understand why it would be a misgiving that would keep you from proposing." The glare she gives him nearly turns him to stone, and even the plants at her feet seem to sense her deadly intent, shrinking away from her.

Gladion laughs humorlessly, his eyes roaming her torn cloak and marred skin with distaste. "I am from a proud and noble line of fae royalty – to throw myself at some  _hermit_  is far beneath me. I have placed my status and dignity at risk to propose, and you dare to disrespect me in this moment, to treat me without my title?"

She opens her mouth for another attack before closing it quickly, silent and seething as she matches his scowl. Considering her next words carefully, she slowly collects her indignation below the surface, forcing her face into something nearly expressionless. "Your generosity knows no bounds." 

Then she stands, and he smirks at what is sure to be his victory, her finally seeing his logic and agreeing that their marriage would be the best arrangement for - 

"And so it is with a heavy heart, Your Highness, that I must refuse."

It hadn't crossed his mind that she might reject him.

Any fae would gladly accept his proposal, recognizing his physical beauty, incredible intelligence, and ubiquitous status. Surely a mortal would be  _leaping_  at the opportunity, no matter how roughly their relationship started. He considers the fact that she may have the silly notion that something like marriage should be concerned with love, but then hasn't she seen his charm? That should be more than enough to satisfy her, help her realize that he's made an offer she simply would not dream of refusing.

He tries not to gape, clenching his jaw as his eyes widen without his consent. Swallowing his shock, he demands, "On what grounds?"

"You've said so yourself: to marry me is far beneath you. I cannot have you wound your pride for my sake." Her faux-pout does little to hide the amusement behind her words, and he quickly understands what little game she's set up for herself just to add insult to injury.

"Don't you understand what I am offering you?"

"But of course, which is all the more reason to humbly refuse it – I know better than to accept a gift from fae." She tries to hide her smile as she watches him bite back a growl. Before he can come up with his counter, she holds up a hand and insists, "And please, I am healing the queen only because I know it's right, and I will refuse any pay for it."

Growing desperate he says, "Then I command you to be my betrothed."

Moon sighs, doing her best to look disappointed. "Ah, but unfortunately I am not a member of your court, honorary or otherwise, as you have said time and time again. Your words have no true power over me."

She's right, of course, but he refuses to admit it, instead stepping forward and threatening, "I would have you jailed for such insolence."

"What charges would I be imprisoned for, Your Highness?" Her voice is far too sweet, far too knowing in that she's won this little battle just by rejecting him. She raises a brow, watching him squirm for an answer and delighting in the fact that she can reduce a noble fae to an aggravated schoolboy.

"I need none."

She nods sagely. "Very well, but I would hate to put the strain on your resources. You, ever the pragmatist, have pointed out before that housing, clothing, and feeding me while I work on the cure is costly and such a waste. I would hate to have your kingdom continue to do so indefinitely while I sit in prison."

They stare at each other, Moon with her lopsided smile and Gladion with his scowl. Despite his irritation, there's something about the quiet confidence in how she holds herself that nearly makes him break into a surprised laugh; she's one of very few people who truly isn't afraid of him, who may see him as an equal. Worryingly, he doesn't mind, and even more distressing is the fact that he now plays into her game, lightening his tone and raising a brow.

"I could have you killed," he warns under his breath.

But she smiles impishly and steps even closer, a breath away as she taunts, "And then you'll have no cure, and you'll be condemning your queen to the same fate as the hermit."

Realizing there's no gracious escape from the grave he's dug himself, Gladion simply groans. "You are insufferable."

"Which is why I must save you from this temporary hysteria I find you in and refuse your hand in marriage!" She steps away, and a part of him aches at the distance as he watches her gather her notebook and writing supplies. With a curtsy, she says, "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness, I really must be going. Simple-minded hermit business to attend to."

And she brushes past him, leaving him to stand in front of the greenhouse with his racing thoughts, most of which now concern what to change for his next attempt at a proposal. He enters the greenhouse, ready to pace as he considers his next move, whether he should give her more time, or plant more of those carnivorous flowers that she loves, or perhaps offer his help with the antidote.

Perhaps there's more to that old legend than he would like to admit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lonashipping Week 2018's prompt, "Fantasy." Rejecting a marriage proposal counts as romance, right?


End file.
